


The Kiss of Two Broken Souls

by RaynePhoenix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:47:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23058730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaynePhoenix/pseuds/RaynePhoenix
Summary: Hermione Jean Granger has been missing from Wizarding Britain since she was captured at Malfoy Manor. 3 Years have passed since she was last seen and an entire taskforce of ministry workers has been set up to find her and other Muggleborns also in the same predicament. Will Hermione return? And where has she been for 3 years? And why was she missing in the first place?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 48
Kudos: 93





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Canon compliant until capture at Malfoy Manor in 7th Year. I have taken artistic licence when it comes to certain creatures and characters in this fic. This fic is set 3 years after the 2nd wizarding war.  
> Eventual Dramione, rated M for future scenes.  
> This is my first fic so apologies for any mistakes (They are my own) and of course I’m making no money from this and all characters, except a few OCs, are the property of J.K. Rowling.  
> I'd love to thank LissaDream and Snowblind12 for being my biggest inspiration to write. They're incredible, so you should definitely go and check out their work and give them some love. I 1000% wouldn't be writing this if I didn't know them. They're my favourite people. Also to the DFW FB group for positive messages and In particular NotSoSirius92 for being my mentor.  
> This story is still in development, so I can't promise upload times at all, but I will do my best to remain as regular as possible. I have the whole outline and finish planned, and I'm about 6 or so Chapters written. I will update tags when necessary and I will post warnings if something can get upsetting but this is meant to be a HEA, slow burn Dramione. I don't intend to write Author Notes. I listen to fanfiction more than reading it and ANs can disrupt the flow, so unless I have a valid reason, I wont put them in.  
> Here is Chapter 1 for your enjoyment. Edit 08/03/2020 - I left out the first paragraph the first time I uploaded this, so I have added that in. First time posting nerves I think!

Draco Malfoy was sat at his desk, piles of paperwork surrounded him as he filled out yet another report. He truly hated the menial side of his job however, needs must. Being responsible for so many people gave him a purpose but 3 years on since he landed probationary work with the Ministry instead of jail time in Azkaban, he was feeling a bit lacklustre. As he detailed the events of one of his latest cases, he was quite glad to be able to sign on the dotted line. He laid his quill down and stretched out his fingers just as a commotion at the other end of the room caught his attention.

Harry was half running towards him, a look of shock plastered all over his face, his jacket carelessly thrown over one shoulder, his other hand too busy with a phone to find its sleeve. Their eyes met from across the room and it told Draco everything he needed to know; This was important, and it meant he had his chance to leave the office.

"Malfoy, get in here now!" The dark-haired man wildly gestured to a door into the private office near to Draco's own desk. Draco hadn't been granted his own room; his colleagues believed that keeping his in the communal space made them safer – though Draco had never given them a reason to doubt him in the 3 years he had been working his probation here.

He stepped around his chair and grabbed his jacket, shrugging it onto his shoulders as he stepped through the door into Harry's office. "Is it her?"

"Yes." Harry breathlessly spewed, "A woman phoned Katie, gave us everything. We need to go. Now."

Draco strode towards the fireplace, always ready to leave at a moment's notice. Harry Accio'd his belongings into a bag and grabbed the pot of floo powder gesturing to Draco to go first. Draco didn't waste a second as he stepped through the floo connection in a single stride and headed straight in Katie's direction, not waiting for his co-worker, who was only 3 steps behind.

Katie Bell sat in the centre of a crowd of people, nursing a hot cup of tea. Everyone was clamouring for more information, but she seemed mute in shock. Draco snatched up her notepad, his eyes darting from left to right as he read everything as fast as he could.

"Is it really her?" Harry asked as his feet hit the hearth, Katie looked up at the two men and nodded. Katie stood as Harry approached her, his arm reaching around her shoulder and he planted a sweet kiss upon her cheek.

"The details all match. It's a really strong possibility but it isn't going to be easy to get to her, she's protected"

"That'll be why we haven't heard any reports yet. She's isn't in the country," Draco held the notebook out to Harry. His mind whirled fast, trying to piece together everything he'd just seen. This was going to be his biggest challenge yet.

Draco ran the team of Probationary workers at the Ministry, known as the Community Service Team. They were a handful of ex Death Eaters who had been granted the position in lieu of prison time, many of them the children of the inner circle. It was a scheme thought up by Minerva McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt when it was clear that Azkaban was filling up too fast. They were given 5 years of unpaid work at the Ministry, helping to repair the country after the war but their biggest goal had been to return any missing people to the Wizarding World.

They had successfully integrated themselves into muggle Britain. Katie's office was situated near to The Leaky Cauldron, close enough to walk back to Diagon Alley on her lunch breaks, often spent cosying up with Harry, the door locked and silencing charms cast on the office.

Draco receded into his own mind, pulling out boxes from past cases and rifling through memories trying to match up some ideas to get this job done fast. Cases after case flashed before him, tidbits of information being saved – just in case.

"She's not in England. She's been out the country since the beginning. This will be why we haven't had a lead yet. It must be her. This has to be right." Harry seemed to only want to point out the obvious, as if voicing it would make it easier to understand. No one else made a sound, everyone looking at each other as if answers should be obvious but nothing came out.

Katie cleared her throat, anxiety pouring out of her like lava from a freshly blown volcano; hot and thick.

"Rita knows, Harry. Rita Skeeter." She swallowed. "She's been bugging the lines so she's heard everything."

* * *

Draco was proud to say that he was not one of these idiotic press reporters, thank you very much. Showing his ID to security on the way into the large hall, he strode up to the stage and ascended the stairs. Bulbs flashed at him as he took a seat on one end of the long table.

If he'd had his way, he would be delivering this press report, but he didn't get his own way and in Draco's opinion that meant this was going to be a roaring disappointment. He straightened his badge, poured himself a glass of water from a jug situated in the middle of the table and kept his rugged chin held high in front of an audience of a few dozen members of the press. Despite his heart racing, he kept a cool face. This conference was a 'make or break it' for his department, his team. For him.

Many quills scratched on parchment while the room whispered a quiet din— The reporters present were eagerly anticipating the news they were here to receive. These types of news bulletins had been quite a common occurrence, and some attended by only the most junior reporters. Nothing on this scale had been seen in the three years since Lord Voldemort had been killed at the battle of Hogwarts.

The wizarding world had rapidly moved on after the war, gradually building themselves up from the dust of war time Britain and emerging into a new era. There was just one thing holding them all back, one person in particular...

Harry Potter walked on stage, wearing a small smile and waving to his audience, he hadn't changed since the war. His hair still jet black, still as messy as ever and his glasses perched on his nose – granted these ones were much more stylish than those awful bottle top specs he used to wear in school. Draco and Harry's working relationship had been a good one. Draco was surprised to find the two men saw eye to eye on several occasions, often Harry sided with Draco to avoid all-out war at the weekly departmental meeting, or so he thought anyway. He was also quietly grateful that Harry had supported him through his trials after the war. There is no doubt that having the Chosen One fight your corner is beneficial to your defence.

Kingsley Shacklebolt sat on Harry's left-hand side. Now the Minister for Magic, he held the position with pride, and he had actively helped bring the Wizarding World out of its depressive post-War era. Kingsley had introduced Draco's department to the Ministry, and it had caused a huge uproar; He'd held his head high and took the pressure from all sides without caving. Draco admired his stoic nature and over the years it had paid off; Draco and his team had helped over 100 people and each one hailed a success under Kingsley's leadership.

On Harry's right sat Ron Weasley, the thorn in Draco's side. Ron still blamed him for everything that had happened thus far, creating a tense atmosphere between them. Draco wasn't surprised though - He probably was to blame for his current situation and so, took the reaction he received from the ginger Weasel, and others like him, with an edge of indifference which only made them hate him a little more.

Draco sat on Kingsley's left and beside Ron sat Minerva McGonagall.

Draco admired Minerva a lot. They had a firm partnership built on her desire to allow Draco and his comrades the chance to fix their mistakes. She was the reason Draco was where he was today. Her testimony, along with Harry's, had spared him a sentence in Azkaban and so he was left to fix his mistakes by working alongside Harry and his band of do-gooders. The grey-haired witch was now Headmistress at Hogwarts and she relished her new position. You would often find her partaking in ball games on the Quidditch pitch and teaching students how to cook for themselves. She breathed a new lease of life into the old war-torn walls of the school. Malfoy estates had made a large donation to the reparation works as part of Draco's suspended sentence and he was pleased to see the difference that money was making to Hogwarts.

Harry stood. The din quietened.

"Thank you all for coming at such short notice, however we felt it important to call you here today to, uh" Harry paused, unsure, "to avoid wild speculation."

Draco eyed Rita Skeeter, her wicked smile curling the corners of her rosy red lips as her Quick Quotes Quill spewed its vitriol onto parchment. Still as flamboyant as ever, she had made it her mission to slay Draco in his work, her motto - 'the Quill is mightier than the sword' – made its way into every article she'd written about him.

"We have some vital information to share, regarding our Community Service team and their current focus here at the Ministry…"

"Is it true, Mr. Potter? Do you - "

"… It has been agreed between all," he stressed the word 'all' as though any confusion need not be elaborated on, "the departments working within the Retrieval Committee that we should share some new intelligence we have." Harry interrupted the shout from the audience. "We will invite you for questions afterwards."

Draco scoffed, almost. Harry was not a public speaker. The members of the press were quiet for him out of respect, not because he commanded his audience, he is the Great Harry Potter after all. Gryffindors Golden Boy, The Boy Who Lived. If he had just been allowed to speak, there would be none of this rabble. He'd have got it out already, but Harry was just dithering.

"In the 3 years since the war, we have worked tirelessly to fix the mistakes others who came before us made..."

"… But one error has remained a mystery to us for a long time and we believe we may have a breakthrough in the disappearance of Hermione Jean Granger."

* * *

"Miss Jean!" A squeal of excited voices came from the corridor. Hermione put her book down on the old desk and smiled brightly, as a small gaggle of young students ran towards her.

"Miss Jean, we did it!", "Oh you won't believe us, it worked!" "Come and see!"

Within seconds, many small hands wrapped into hers and around her waist, pulling her from her quiet reflection and out into the midday sun. All of them giggling and chatting away, Hermione couldn't really piece together a single sentence. Their delightful accents changing familiar words and her brain didn't seem to work fast enough to keep up with their excitement.

The girls led Hermione across to their vegetable patch where runner beans had sprouted from their vines. Vegetables of all kinds spread across the area where clearly, someone had been encouraging their cultivation.

"Well done girls, I told you all your hard work would pay off one day!"

She reached out and picked the largest one from its stalk and broke pieces off, sharing them around and watching in delight as their small faces ranged from pure happiness to complete disgust. "Now, these are great when they're fresh, but they taste even better when cooked. We must wait for them to grow more and we can all join and create a meal for everyone". She popped a piece into her mouth and crunched down – She'd loved teaching the students to cultivate plants of many varieties.

A chorus of "Yes, Miss Jean" came and the girls ran off to play together.

"You're doing a stellar job with that bunch," Hermione turned to see Linzy, another worker at the camp. She stood tall, her hair muddy blonde and poker straight – something Hermione envied her for – and it was nearly always tied back in a messy bun. Linzy was from Australia and Hermione loved to hear her speak, her accent soothing Hermione's soul. Sometimes, she would sit in with Linzy while the blonde read to the children, it felt familiar - somehow.

"Thanks," She smiled.

"Half of those girls never spoke a word before you got here. It's like you cast a spell over them."

Hermione scoffed. "Ahh, if only that were true. I'm sure if I had magic I could fix the world and these kids wouldn't be here at all."

"The world is certainly no fairy tale," Linzy's joined Hermione as she walked back into the school building, "but you're a great start in making it a brighter place for some."

"Thanks, Linzy, I'm glad I am doing something worthwhile." Hermione felt as though the words didn't mean anything. She'd been just over 2 years now and while there was running water and a new school building, Hermione still didn't feel as though she really belonged. Something was missing.

"Do you know if Geoffrey has had any luck yet?" Geoffrey was their manager; he oversaw the whole camp and he was also in charge of making the decisions there. They'd come a long way since they had started but he was now having difficulties obtaining more funding to continue their work. Hermione grabbed a few logs for the fire and started walking towards the dining hut.

"I don't know, he mentioned that there is a chance another group of volunteers are coming, but you know how that works out… They never stay for long."

"Voluntourism" Both girls laughed.

"When are they coming?" Hermione enquired,

"Maybe next week, maybe not" Linzy had never been a great fan of those temporary workers. They tended to show up to a raucous greeting from the village and then disappeared a week later without a trace, going back to their lives like this place didn't exist. Linzy often made it hard for them, getting them to carry water for miles and teaching them that the camp didn't just pop up one day with all the amenities it has. "Maybe there will be a cute one who is looking for a bit more than voluntourism" She winked in Hermione's direction.

Hermione blushed, "Stop it!" she laughed, "Maybe it is you scaring them all off you know. Or maybe one is a real Prince Charming who wants to pay for indoor plumbing and gas pipes"

Linzy laughed out loud at that one, "They'd need to be loaded"

A clock ticked 1pm, lunch was over. Hermione left the logs in the dining hut and brushed herself down.

Back to work. She sighed, this monotony could do with being broken up, maybe it was a good thing that the volunteers were coming, she would have to speak to Geoffrey to see what was happening.

Later that evening, Hermione was sat reading by candlelight outside her tent. Her day had been mentally tiresome, and she longed for a little getaway. Unable to concentrate on the words, she placed the book gently down and sighed. The others had all settled for an early night because despite being one of the warmest places in the world, it got mightily cold in the evenings.

She stood and wrapped her blanket around her shoulders. This blanket was a gift to her from some of her students, she had taught them to crochet and each little wonky granny square had been sewn together and was now one of Hermione's favourite possessions. She didn't have much, she didn't need it, but she treasured a few precious items. Her first job here had been to build the school. She was a volunteer originally but having nothing to go back home to had made her stay. Two long years had passed since the plane had landed and Hermione had been promoted to a schoolteacher and given a small allowance every week, accommodation and food included.

Something had begun to bother her on a regular basis, an itch. Some unknown calling from the void and she couldn't understand what was holding her back.

Every now and then, strange things would happen around Hermione that couldn't be explained. Electronics would go haywire near her, so she never had a phone or a computer or contact with the outside world. This meant she wasn't any good at helping with the admin side of her work, it was all physical and she excelled in her role of tutor. But that itch, that desire to do something else, had firmly set in and Hermione knew it wouldn't be long before she asked to change what she was doing.

When Hermione first arrived at the camp, it was a mishmash of canvas tents and dwellings surrounded by corrugated tin sheets. Nothing was permanent and the people here were desperate for help. It had started with building some small homes for the villagers, bringing medicine to them and digging water wells and these had made an immediate change. Hermione lived for the day another piece of good news arrived, like the day a child in the village was named after her or the day the school finally opened after 5 weeks of lugging bricks and mixing clay cement. She thought back to when the school opened, her face spreading into a big beaming smile and the memories flashed before her eyes.

She loved the celebrations and the big village meals where singing and dancing lasted for 3 days or more. Everyone came together to share and be a part of something together. The love she received from these people was something she craved, she needed. Recently there had been little new to celebrate. The camp was stagnating without funding and they really needed to build more homes and fix the shower situation.

Showering in camp meant heating water in an old oil drum over a fire before it piped its way to the shower tents. It wasn't modern but, she guessed, it never really would be. Everyone had to shower at the same time to save on fuel for the fire, women in the mornings and men in the evenings.

Except recently the oil drum had rusted right through and that meant there was no more hot water to shower in, you had to use saucepans and metal cups to warm water in the fire then run towards the tent to use it before it cooled.

She wandered over to the tents housing the female students and peeked inside. It was dark and everyone seemed sound asleep. She checked the school was locked and headed towards the main offices.

Geoffrey was still busy working inside, so she knocked lightly on the door before stepping straight through.

"Hi Jean," He mumbled without taking his eyes off the computer.

"Hello, I was just popping in to let you know that everyone is asleep and I'm thinking of turning in for the night,"

"Yeah, I've just got a few more bits to do before I'm out. Oh, hey! I wondered if you would consider leading the next group of volunteers around camp," He lifted his bespectacled eyes to hers.

"They're coming then. I don't mind leading this time but I'm almost certain that Linzy is desperate for the role you know; you should probably consider asking her first"

"I would ask Linzy, but you know what happened the last time, utter disaster. We cannot afford for that to happen again"

"But she encouraged their donations"

"Jean, that isn't the point. Professionalism is tantamount to the success of this camp and right now, we are severely lacking in funding" he chewed his lip, "and professionalism."

Hermione bit back a silent chuckle. Linzy had maintained her version of professionalism until Geoffrey's back was turned and then she delighted in portraying a certain sense of 'professionalism' amongst the hottest guys on the team.

"When are they coming?"

"2 days,"

What?! "We can't fix the showers in 2 days Geoff; we need to go to the town to get some supplies and you won't sign off the spending" She huffed, her foot almost stomping. Almost.

"Make it their mission" Geoffrey turned back to his work and ended the conversation there. He was very headstrong and felt that his word was final. Something Hermione struggled with but rarely challenged.

He seemed to always have the answers but never ones Hermione believed were any good. 'Making it their mission' meant some bravado was likely to happen amongst the wealthiest of the volunteers and Geoffrey was hoping they'd pay for the supplies out of their own pocket. Less paperwork for him and more work for the volunteers. Hermione hated this part of her job. Sucking up to anonymous people for their money felt insidious. Hermione knew this was his simple answer - his get out clause - but it pulled the purse strings of whomever came to camp, and she was terrible at manipulating people. She had learned that changing Geoffrey's approach at this stage wasn't going to be successful, however, so she sighed and left him to his work; She'd end up doing things her own way and he seemed too busy to argue.

Hermione couldn't sleep. Something was troubling her mind and she fought the turbulence behind her eyes by tossing and turning until she just couldn't do it anymore. Huffing and zipping her sleeping bag undone she ran fingers across her scalp and into her knotted hair.

She'd kept it long, the locals taught her how to braid her hair, so it kept tidy for longer, something the girls in her class delighted in helping with. Surprisingly, she found that her hair loved being free and natural.

She sighed at the thought of her younger, formative years. They'd gone now, only brief glimpses into her past remained and they were usually triggered by scents or sounds. Trains had made her heart leap into her throat. Tears welling in her eyes as the noise of the engines roared to life and steam billowed past her. Linzy's accent had made her feel comforted. Had she been Australian in her past life? Maybe not, her accent was very much a south of England accent. No memories came back to her while she was here; she didn't know how old she was or where she came from. She had no friends and no family and right now, under the equatorial sky, she took in a deep breath and allowed a tear to fall.

The single drop of salty liquid fell from her chin and landed upon the dry sand.

She felt trapped and angry.  
Her heart thudded painfully in her chest.  
Her sense of fight or flight tingling.  
Pain ran down her arms and into her hands.  
Her fingers heated.  
A cry escaped her lips and she fell, back.  
Back.  
Back.

* * *

_"Miss, are you awake?" Beep, beep._

_She slowly blinked her eyes open and was assaulted by the bright lights that flooded her vision. All she could hear was a machine beeping and a gentile woman stood over her, a small smile etched across her face. Beep, beep._

_"Hello there! No, wait, don't sit up. Just relax" Hands patted her stomach and a blanket was pulled to her shoulders. "Do you know where you are?" Beep, beep._

_Where? Where am I? No words formed, just a scratchy noise left her throat. Beep, beep._

_"Here you go, my dear, have some water." A straw was placed between her lips and she pulled a long swig of liquid into her dry mouth. "Can you tell me your name?" Beep, beep._

_My name? She shook her head. Beep, beep._

_"Do you know where you are?" Beep, beep._

_She just asked me that, what an odd person "I'm..." Wait… "No." Beep, beep._

_"Not to worry, my dear. You're in Kings College Hospital, you've been asleep for quite some time" Beep, beep._

_Asleep? I need to sleep, maybe I should just... And the beeping faded._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said no AN's, but I absolutely have to get across my gratitude to everyone who has left me reviews and kudos on AO3 and FFN. I'm completely blown away by the response and as a result, I've decided to post chapter 2, very early, because not only am I really excited to share it with you, I'm also really grateful for such a wonderful response.  
> After this, I'm going to go with weekly chapters, so chapter 3 will be posted a week from now and so on.  
> I am bending the timeline a little, so if this is getting confusing please let me know  
> Thank you, so much.

The Prime Minister was sat at his desk after a long day of work when he heard that cough. A shiver ran down his spine, he hadn’t heard ‘that’ cough in years and the last time it happened, he was informed that the serial killer ‘moldywart’ had been killed and that the war was over. He didn’t expect to be hearing that cough again so soon. What on Earth happens in the Wizarding World to cause so much trouble all the time? Meddling fools, maybe he was just a little bit glad he didn’t have magic.

Placing his favourite pen down on the desk, he arose from his high-backed chair and placed his left arm on the small of his back. He simultaneously awaited and dreaded the portrait’s next words.

“Prime Minister of Muggles, the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, has requested meeting with you as a matter of great urgency, please await his arrival by floo shortly.”

“Thank you, I am free to meet with him.” The portrait nodded in reply and returned to his inert position within the frame.

The Prime Minister strode over towards his liquor cabinet and pulled out a crystal decanter and two glasses. Deciding that this meeting couldn’t be anything he particularly wanted to hear, he would require a little Dutch courage to remain focused.

Situating himself in front of the empty fireplace, he startled slightly when a bright green light lit the room, before an imposing figure of a man stepped out of the fireplace. Astounded by the hulking stature of the Minister of Magic, the Prime Minister felt overwhelmed for a moment.

“Good evening, Prime Minister, I’m sure you remember me from the last time we met” Kingsley held his hand out towards the man in a friendly gesture, observing the look of horror on his counterpart’s face. Noticing both hands busy with glassware, Kingsley took the bottle and poured both men drinks..

“You’re right, I do. Although it has been quite some time hasn’t it? Any more murderers on the loose?” The shorter man joked, nervously offering the tumbler in his right hand.

Kingsley quirked a smile, “Astute observation, Sir. However, I have held office for 3 years now, and no, no more murderers.”

“Please, take a seat, I’m assuming there is an important reason you’re here?”

“Thank you, and yes. I’m sure you’re aware of the turmoil my world has been through over the last few years…” Kingsley cleared his throat,

“Ahh yes, moldywart.” The Prime Minister said smugly, as if by knowing this information he was on the same level as Shacklebolt.

Kingsley paused “Voldemort, and yes, that problem. Well, a few years ago his reign of terror came to an end, but we have been dealing with a myriad of problems since then...” Both men drank.

“… However, we have an issue we require your immediate assistance with. Wizards and Witches come from many different backgrounds and some of them are born to parents with no magic at all. These Muggle Borns are why I am here today.”

The Prime Minister was aware of this already, having been given the briefing about magic manifesting in the non-magic world the first night he sat in office, but never in his whole career had the Wizarding world asked for help before. He wasn’t certain how much help he could be to a secretive organisation like this one.

“During the war, several Muggle Born witches and wizards were captured, obliviated and sent back into Muggle Britain without any trace.”

The Prime Minister worked very hard to hide confusion from splaying across his face as he listened intently, Shacklebolt may as well be talking in a different language entirely.

“I have a list of names of those I need to trace most of all, although there is one particular person we must find immediately. She is a very important witch and we wish to have her back.” Kingsley handed over a moving photograph of Hermione, Harry and Ron. They smiled at the camera, clearly during a happier, carefree moment in their lives.

“Minister Shacklebolt, I do apologise for seeming, shall we say, ignorant but please can you explain what you mean by ‘blivy-ated’” He looked up from the photo, willing his ignorance of this technology to persevere.

Shacklebolt smiled, “I’m sorry, Obliviation is a mind-altering charm, it removes memories. If done correctly, it can be quite a useful spell. However, we believe the Obliviation used on these people was haphazard and forceful rendering many completely lacking in any recollection whatsoever.” He passed a scroll across the desk “This is the current list of people we are tracing.”

The Prime Minister allowed himself to look shocked. “You mean there are…” He looked down at the list that Kingsley had handed him, “… This is a lot of people Shacklebolt, you have no idea how this will appear to the public. I’m not even certain what my government can do to help here.” He felt very much as though he stood on the back foot of this conversation and it discomforted him.

Kingsley nodded in thought, “Prime Minister, if you will for a moment, imagine that your country has been at war and,”

“I think I can well imagine what my country at war feels like! Please do not treat me like a fool here,” he reacted, indignantly.

“…and you have a chance of making life a bit better for your people, you would go to the end of the Earth to make that happen, wouldn’t you Prime Minister?” Kingsley’s deep, gravelly voice held a tone of superiority and it made the hairs on the back of the Prime Ministers neck stand on end.

“But, yes of course. Just remember now, that this is going to be bad for publicity, bad for my government. Hundreds of unknown people suddenly being recalled back to where, Minister?” He frustratedly picked up the list of names and scanned them, “Donaghan Tremlett, Mary Cattermole, Minister Shacklebolt if you please… I couldn’t explain this to the populace well enough.”

“Prime Minister, a man in your position has enough push to do something. But let me press the importance of one name on that list; Hermione Granger.” The Prime Minister took a moment to find her name, it was at the bottom with double underlines and a circle drawn around it. “Hermione Granger is a war heroine. She is famous for her role in defeating Voldemort and she is now in grave danger. She must be found. We need her memories; we need to return her.”

The Prime Minister looked Kingsley directly in the eye, observing his body language and testing out whether the Minister for Magic had any idea about British Politics and how brittle his job role was these days. “You’re asking the impossible from me, Shacklebolt!” Reaching for the decanter he poured himself a generous helping of brandy and drank it down. Kingsley looked at him with a keen eye, his mouth set straight and a grim determination on his face.

“You do understand, Prime Minister, that I have tried this without you.” His tone lowered, “Without you, it is infinitely more difficult to keep the Statute of Secrecy in place, you do understand my meaning here, of course. If they find out about our World…”

He understood well enough. The statute kept his people safe from people like Kingsley and this Hermione Granger. Now, there was a list of a few dozen people in front of him who could break that statute in an uninformed way and suddenly, he understood. This needed to be done quickly and quietly. Without fuss. Without it going public.

“Well, I can’t promise results, but I can try. Make this the last you ask of me; do you hear me? The government I run is teetering and I cannot subject it to any extra strain for nothing.”

“Prime Minister, I can make sure funding for this mission is made available to you. Finding these people, and especially Miss Granger can mean the difference between my world surviving the post War era and well… I do not want to consider the affects if these people don’t reappear soon.”

Sensing the finality of this discussion, the Prime Minister stood and shook hands with Kingsley Shacklebolt, he felt nervous and sick and desperately wanted the man out of his office, shy of kicking him out.

“There is another thing I need to add, however…”

Stifling a groan, the Prime Minister let go of Kingsley’s hand, he was going to need another very stiff drink after this,

“… They can not know they are magic folk until we perform the obliviation reversal spell. It can damage their minds permanently. Approach this with caution.”

He handed over another piece of parchment.

“This parchment is charmed, as soon as you write on it, I will personally receive the message. Please inform me quickly in the event anyone is found.”

Kingsley left through the fireplace again and the Prime Minister walked back to his desk to pour himself another brandy. Thinking over the conversation again, he realised what an impossible task this might be. Finding people who don’t even know their own names and with only a list of their forgotten names? The man was a fool and not one he wanted to cross. Knocking back the Brandy he poured another and walked back to the list.

_Hermione Granger - Aged 18 (at disappearance in March 1998), born Sept. ‘79.  
5 foot 5 inches tall. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Pale complexion. Lived in London. _

An impossible request.

* * *

_“…and finally, The Metropolitan Police have reopened a missing person case and are appealing for public help…”_

The old tea kettle whistled its boiling point and Good Sister Mary counted out 4 spoonsful of leaves for the pot. Slightly stooped by age, she carefully lifted the heavy kettle and poured the water, hands worn by age and experience. Her feet shuffled in pink, fluffy slippers to return the water boiler to the stove and she collected the bottled milk from the fridge.

Settling all her wares onto a delightfully elderly tea tray, she lifted it with both handles and wandered back into the sitting room.

“Oh, thank you Sister Mary, you’re a good egg” Sister Angelique cooed from her overstuffed armchair, leaning over to remove the TV remote from the coffee table between them.

“Here, Sister, did you see that on the news about the girl with the curls?”

Sister Mary placed the tray on the table and turned her body to face the television as the unmistakable likeness of Jean appeared as a person of interest in a Police investigation.

“Oh, she was such a good girl. Mark my words Sister Angelique, if she is in trouble then I’ll be damned.”

“Don’t say such things Sister, we will all be in trouble!”

Sister Mary tutted and served the tea. They watched the rest of the broadcast in silence as the News Reader spoke of the young friend she once made.

_“If anyone knows any information regarding this, please call ‘101’ and you can give your details anonymously. Allow me to repeat, if you have any information regarding this individual, please call ‘101’. All calls will be treated with the utmost confidentiality. More details can be found on the BBC News website”_

Making up her mind, Sister Mary nodded to herself. She placed the teacup back on the tray and tootled to the hallway to reach the main house telephone. Situating herself comfortably on the wicker chair, she lifted the receiver and dialled the phone number in question.

_“You are being connected to Metropolitan Police, please press 1 to request a different force.”_

She held the line,

“Metropolitan Police, how can I help?”

“My dear, I have some information regarding one of the people named in the news report I saw on the news. Her name ‘ Hermione Granger, although I know her under a different title, but there is no confusing that curly mane she calls hair.”

Chuckling softly, the operator on the end of the line spoke rapidly “One moment please, I am going to pass you to the correct department who can help, do you mind being placed on hold?”

Sister Mary bade the young woman goodbye and awaited connection to the next person in line.

“Missing persons, my name is Katie Bell, how can I help you?”

“Hello Miss Bell, my name is Sister Mary and I am calling today to report some information regarding a young lady I’ve met. Her face appeared in the news report on the television not a moment ago. She is called Hermione Granger, but I knew her under a different name.”

There was silence at the end of the phone and Sister Mary took it from her ear to look at it, questioning whether or not she had been heard, “Hello?”

“Uh, hello. Yes, sorry. Did you say Hermione Granger? Please can you tell me what you know?”

“Well, like I’ve said, I did not know her as Hermione Granger, she was named Jean Doe 394 when she crossed my path. She came to visit us after finding herself in a lost and confused state in hospital. I only really recognised her from the photo shown on the tele, but it is definitely the same person you are looking for.”

“Wow” was all Katie could gasp at that moment in time. “Well, Sister Mary, I thank you for calling us today. This is very vital information and I am quite keen to hear what else you might know about Hermione.”

“Well, my dear, it has been approximately 2 years since I have seen the girl, she came to live with my sisters and I in the convent here. She seemed to be suffering from a severe case of memory loss, of which nothing could be recovered enough for her to find her own family. She was entitled Jean Doe 394 under her hospital records – That’s Kings College Hospital – so you may be able to discover her medical history from that name. It’s unique to her”

“I’m just taking the information you are giving me down, but please can you remember any dates of when you last saw Miss Granger?”

“I last saw her on the 18th of March 1999, when I saw her off to work one morning and of course, she hasn’t been back since”

“Do you know where she worked at the time?”

“Of course, my dear! I left her at the airport, she flew out under a specialised Visa with the church and is currently working with our foreign colleagues. I can tell you exactly where she is currently living”

Katie could not believe what she was hearing. Gesturing wildly to someone else who was in the room, she pressed the urgency of her request with as little noise as possible.

Writing frantically on a forgotten piece of parchment, in capital letters, she scratched out just two words, underlined it twice and drew a circle around it:

HERMIONE GRANGER

* * *

_“… But one error has remained a mystery to us for a long time and we believe we may have a breakthrough in the disappearance of Hermione Jean Granger.”_

The once silent room erupted in a cacophony of shouting and squealing. The cameras seemed to flash at the exact moment her name left Potter’s lips and the reporters didn’t seem to care about talking over one other. Everyone wanted to know more about Hermione.

This was the news the world had been waiting for. For three long years, Hermione’s whereabouts had been an unending mystery. Since her capture by the snatchers, she’d disappeared from Malfoy Manor without a trace and not a single ounce of her magic had been used since that day.

She wasn’t the only one to disappear during that time. The tally had reached over 100 names, mostly people known to those still alive after the war. As the post war depression lingered over mourning families, it was Hermione’s names on their lips; _At least we can lay him to rest, not like that poor soul Hermione. We can celebrate her life once and for all, which is a relief because she could have gone missing like Hermione._

The audience stood and clamoured to be the first with an answer to their question. The room closed in on Draco and his chin dropped to his chest, he closed his bulb-blinded eyes and took in a sobering breath. He’d been vilified in the press and the Daily Prophet had labelled him responsible for Hermione’s disappearance and the world hadn’t let him forget it. Rita Skeeter had been the first to make the connection to Draco’s involvement. She had lambasted him since the day it was revealed that Hermione was missing, her presence, or lack thereof, at the Battle of Hogwarts had almost cost them the war.

Harry had raised his hand to calm the room. Reporters had flocked closer to the stage, one step away from climbing up there, as if being near Harry would get them heard. Harry couldn’t hear a damn thing. Security had pulled rank and spread themselves out in front of the long table, buffeting reporters away from the stage. No one voice could be heard. Looking out at the rippling tide of people, trying to get themselves heard, Draco noticed Rita Skeeter had remained in her seat, whispering to her quill.

Draco had enough, pulling his wand out from a holster in his sleeve, he cast Sonorus at his own throat and stood, “WILL EVERYONE PLEASE SIT BACK IN THEIR ASSIGNED SEATS IMMEDIATELY, POST HASTE”. He made eye contact with anyone intending to ignore his request until they faltered under his glaring, grey stare and returned to their seats. Still, they whispered between themselves but at least they weren’t going hell for leather towards Potter. He cancelled the charm and nodded at Harry before retaking his seat. The witch in her glaringly pink suit watched his every move.

“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy.” Harry returned the nod to Draco, especially in front of this baying mob. He cleared his throat and continued from where he left off.

“I am certain you are all aware that this news requires the utmost delicacy. We believe she is safe and well, and that she has suffered no ill since leaving the Wizarding World.” He straightened the sleeve of his robes, “The Ministry has assigned a private taskforce to ensure her safe return and you can be assured that we are exceptionally delighted to convey this news.”

“We all,” He gestured to the people sat at the desk, “Have committed ourselves to this endeavour over the coming weeks and we will have more news on this matter shortly. We will now open to questions started front row, left hand side,” He pointed towards a young reporter with long, blonde hair and the most insane glasses Draco had ever seen, “Miss. Lovegood?”

Draco’s insides cringed. Potter is an idiot. _Close this up! We are going to be here forever!_

A dreamy voice drifted across the airspace as Luna stood to ask her question, “Hello Harry,” Harry smiled back at Luna awaiting what was no doubt going to be a stupid question, but what came next surprised even him, “You have already said she is alive and well, but you have yet to mention whether or not you have retrieved her yet. When will Miss Granger be home?”

Harry bowed his head, “No, she has not been retrieved yet, Ms Lovegood. In past cases, the retrieval process has not always been a simple one, and it has been getting more difficult as the years go by. The task force is going to be deployed by the end of the week and we hope to return Hermione soon”

Harry pointed at the next person with their hand in the air. A young man stood, Draco had never seen this boy before and figured he had just arrived for the emergency broadcast.

“Mr Potter, can you tell us of Miss Granger’s whereabouts and who she has been with this whole time?”

“At this moment we are keeping those details private until such a time that Hermione wishes to disclose that information herself, as we have with all the Witches and Wizards affected by this problem.”

Another hand, another question… “Does Hermione know you’re coming?” “She isn’t aware of our existence, so, no.”

The questions continued for hours and Draco observed every member of the audience after they’d had their question answered. Some of them took what Harry said willingly but you could see that others were not impressed with their response. Some had left soon after their question was answered so gradually the room had emptied for all but a few of the most dedicated.

“Rita Skeeter, Harry, I’m certain you remember me” Her voice alone was enough to make Draco want to punch a wall. Draco saw Harry curl his fingers into a fist as Rita dared to walk onto the podium despite security being present, “You say that dear Hermione is all fit and well but what we are all desperate to know is are you looking forward to rekindling your budding romance with our little War Heroine?”

Harry blushed. Draco decided he’d had enough and stood himself between Rita and Harry, gesturing her off the stage and away from The Golden Idiot.

“As always, we thank you for your time and continued patience, but I’m tired and going home.” Draco interrupted. “Goodnight!”

And with that, he graciously pulled out Minerva’s chair and offered her a hand to stand. She graciously took it and bent her arm around the crook of his elbow in a show of comradery.


	3. Chapter 3

Draco sat with a bottle of cold cider in his hand, the tiny droplets of condensation cooling his palm as he watched them drip onto the plush carpet below. He lounged casually across an armchair with his foot dangling over the side. Daphne Greengrass and Theo Nott had arrived at his flat earlier in the evening, hailing him a hero and finding cause to celebrate. Hermione's discovery was clearly big news in the community.

He had decided, now the press conference was finally over, that he was going to forget about everything – for a little while at least. He hadn't left the office until late and he was feeling tense and exhausted. He was certain that his release would be found at the bottom of this bottle, perhaps the next. Either way, he wasn't going to end this evening quietly or sober.

"She's gonna be so mad at you" Theo jostled, pointing his finger towards Draco so he could drive his argument in further. "We all know yours was the last face she saw; she isn't the type of person to forgive you for it." Draco huffed in agreement – He'd been dreading finding her as much as he'd looked forward to it. "The only solution is you don't go. Just don't go. They don't need you there, Harry is a big enough prick to deal with it on his own. Come on Draky-poo. You've done all the hard work, now sit back and reap the rewards! Freedom baby!" He whooped loud and Draco laughed. Freedom, indeed. His probation agreement had been… _"For 5 years, or until the last person is found. Whichever is sooner."_

"He has to go, Theo, he doesn't have a choice" Daphne Greengrass sympathised from the couch, she'd always been on the side lines at school – a part of the furniture - but in recent years, the young brunette had become quite good friends with the sorry band of Slytherins. "Besides, if he gets her back then she'll have to forgive him. It's a big deal. She is a big deal! There is no way Draco can mess this up"

Draco scoffed; he understood things could go wrong every time someone was found. Recently, the captures had been a lot more difficult and people had been injured. It was a lot easier earlier on in their work. "Unlikely,"

Daphne paused, giving Draco the side eye as Theo served himself another drink.

"Unlikely, what? Unlikely to fuck it up? Unlikely to do the job? What, Draco?"

"Daph, when you frown like that you get wrinkles,"

"Don't you change the subject Ferret boy," She huffed. Her long fingers dipped into her glass and she flicked the droplets at Draco in protest. He barely flinched, he wiped his chin and took a swig from his own bottle.

"You know, what you need Draky-boy?" Theo practically bounced across the room. Draco didn't dare guess what was about to come out of Theo's mouth next, he just closed his eyes and waited with bated breath… "You need a bloody good shag. You know the saying – The way to forget one girl is to get over another," He flung himself onto the couch, only balancing himself enough to not spill his drink. Pleased with himself, he smirked. "Or something like that. Pansy will be here soon, I'm sure she'd take your mind off it"

"What does that have to do with anything, Theo?" Daphne scolded. Rolling her eyes, she stood and stared down at Draco "Ignore him, he's an imbecile." She stuck her tongue out at Theo and continued "You're going to be just fine. You've done this same job one hundred times over, it's no different just because it is Hermione Granger we are talking about. It's stressful because it's the last one and you can see freedom over the hill"

"It's the biggest hill though." Draco sighed, laying his head back, his mind a jumbled mess and an ache beating at his brow. He was desperate for this all to be over but he knew the drill; There was no way to just go and remove Hermione and be back in time for Dinner. This was going to take a while and he dreaded the prospect.

He'd learned the most effective way to return any of the obliviated witches and wizards was to befriend them, gain their trust and then explain the details, allow them to come willingly to have the magical reversal done. Anyone they'd found at first, anyone returned by force, had almost exploded with rage. It was like their withheld magic was fighting within them. Draco remembered the aching bones and purple bruises that had adorned his body. His black eyes only concealed by magic, not erased. He'd left them there, an act of internal penance.

As the years had gone by, the method of returning an individual became commonplace. The team had it figured down to a T, the only difference was the power of the person's magic and Hermione was a powerful witch.

The last job he'd ever do for the Ministry, he could move on after this; Draco would come home and he would be a free man. No more community service or unpaid work. No more Muggle traveling in Muggle clothes with Muggle suitcases, and certainly never another Muggle within 50 yards of his person again. It all seemed so simple. Certainly, there was a lot resting on this and Draco could feel the weight of responsibility on his shoulders.

Daphne's 'tsking' brought him back to the room. "Well, I think you're being too hard on yourself." She took the cider from him and before he could protest, she brought the bottle to her lips and finished it in one. "You used to have such confidence in yourself – I look forward to the day that particular aspect of your character returns."

Draco stood himself up in one swift motion, facing Daphne toe-to-toe and staring at the empty bottle she still held in her hand. "You'll do kindly to not doubt my character, Miss Greengrass."

His eyes flicked to her own and he watched as her pupils dilated under his stare, "I am quite aware of my flaws," He paused, tilting his shoulders in closer, his tongue darting out to moisten his bottom lip, "I intend to use those flaws to my advantage." Daphne blinked, silently locked to his stare as she fixated on the change in atmosphere. Suddenly, straightening his spine and looking above her, Draco stepped around Daphne and glided towards the kitchenette, finding another bottle of chilled cider in the fridge.  
Daphne quietly adjusted her dress straps.

A bustle of noise travelled through from the corridor, Draco sighed, realising that he wasn't getting any peace a quiet tonight, especially after the revelation of the day.

Blaise Zabini swayed into the room with his arms wide open and pulled Draco into a giant bear hug. "Where is the Hero of the hour?"

"I am not a hero!" Draco protested weakly, flinging an arm around Blaise's shoulder and patting his friend on the shoulder, "And you can piss off,"

"I'm pissing nowhere, thank you." A female voice interrupted, a voice he was all too familiar with. Pansy Parkinson swept in holding a bottle of champagne. "We've come to celebrate your freedom. Just being good friends, and all" She kissed the air next to Draco's cheek and gave him the bottle. "Be a dear,"

As much as they irritated him, Draco smiled and allowed himself an evening of drinking and jovial banter.

* * *

Making his way to work the next morning, Draco was hungover and not in the best of moods. He'd drank entirely too much the night before and kicked Pansy out of his bed early this morning. They had always had an 'on again, off again' relationship but growing older, Pansy had moved on with her career and no longer having the stresses of arranged marriage – Both her parents had died in the war leaving her the only heiress to a great family fortune – meant she could move on her own path. Their relationship, if you'd even call it that, was purely heated, rampant sex whenever one or the other clicked their fingers. It worked for them because there were no strings, no feelings.  
Draco had long since realised that his name bore only bad memories after what had happened and no amount of money or rescued Muggleborns would fix that. Having Pansy fill his bed was all he wanted, tradition be damned, and no one could or would stop him now.

Draco was often in the office before everyone else. He would wake at 5am, go for a run, shower, eat breakfast and have nothing else to do with his time. He would start early and leave early whenever the opportunity came around. When he started working for the ministry, he avoided all attempts from his co-workers to form a bond. He neither needed, nor wanted their friendship and as time when on, they stopped bothering him. Some braver souls would make him a coffee every now and then, but he never repaid the favour. This wasn't his calling; this was community service imposed upon him and taking more of his time than he ever imagined.

This hadn't stopped Harry from trying, though, and Draco didn't mind so much really. He discovered Harry's work ethic was similar to his own and they liked to eat the same food, visited the same pubs, and they both supported the Falmouth Falcons Quidditch team.

Entering the Ministry, he noticed the other workers were much more upbeat today. Clearly the news of Hermione's discovery had left them all with a spring in their step, but Draco was not prepared for the looks people were giving him. One man risked offering up his hand to shake but he quickly stepped away when Draco glared at him. More waved as he passed and many even dared to offer him a "good morning." This most certainly wasn't a good morning for Draco and as he approached the lifts to take him to his level, he whispered a quiet spell to make everyone else suddenly change their path and walk in different directions. He entered the lift alone and took the time to clear his mind.

He soon appreciated taking this time to himself because as he turned the corner to his office where many of his colleagues were seated and awaiting Harry's meeting, he noticed Harry was smiling at him. Draco decided then and there that he was calling in sick today. He took his phone out of his pocket, dialled Harry's number and made eye contact with the dark-haired idiot.

"Draco, why are you ringing me from right there?"

"Courtesy call, I'm sick" He coughed into a closed fist, "goodbye,"

"Shut up and get here. There is a meeting you need to be at and you're not copping out today."

Draco gave him his best death glare and hung up the phone. He didn't break eye contact with him, which he regretted when Harry smugly handed him a steaming hot cup of coffee and winked. Draco hated just about everything that had happened this morning and that wink was just the cherry on top. He was in a terrible mood and he knew this was going to be a long day.

As with all other cases, there was a briefing meeting held before any action was taken. The large table in front of the fire was a command centre of sorts, the walls surrounding the office had hundreds of notes pinned upon it. Many photos of smiling witches and wizards beamed down upon their rescuers. Harry had hoped this wall would increase morale amongst the team, but Draco always noticed Hermione's absence.

Today, her photo lay upon the great mahogany slab, notes from the call Katie had taken were distributed amongst all the attendees. Draco tried not to show his disgust when Ron entered the room. He did as little as possible to antagonise him, yet it seemed that just breathing annoyed Ron, especially if you breathed in his direction. Ron had taken Harry and Draco's friendship particularly hard in the beginning and resorted to throwing his weight around at the Ministry. Draco watched as Ron stood idly by, while Harry started reading the agenda.

"… and so, the people assigned for this mission are as follows" Harry had been explaining their plan, "Myself, Ron, Blaise, and Draco. Katie, Angelina, Hannah you'll be joining us, too."

"We will be taking a flight on an aeroplane tomorrow morning, so you may all be excused from today's work to prepare. Please ensure you direct any public comments in my direction! We need to be as confidential as always. Where we are going is very warm, so pack appropriately. The Ministry are providing the supplies so just bring your own essentials. Flight is at 8.50am, arrive at the airport for 5am, please. Flight time is approximately 9 hours and the destination is a further 3 hours from the airport by car. No, we cannot change this plan now. If we go by any magical means, they can be traced, and we risk alerting the public of our plans. Skeeter isn't expecting us to go by Muggle transport"

"Are there any Wizarding settlements there?" A question came from the other side of the room.

"At this moment in time, we have been unable to acquaint ourselves with any wizarding communities nearby. This doesn't mean there are none, just that we don't know of any yet. We are going completely Muggle this time. We can't risk what might happen if any magic is used."

"How are we getting her home?"

Ron stepped up before Harry could answer, he played with the collar of his t shirt for a second before extracting a broken pendant necklace from within. "This broken time turner once belonged to Hermione. We are connecting it to the Portkey network today and once she is willing to come home, it will bring us straight to St. Mungos." Draco thought that was a pretty decent idea but hated that Ron had the portkey. It made the plan feel sour in his stomach.

"As always," Harry continued, "Anyone left behind in the office must be on high alert. Keep anyone else off our trail, and make sure the lines stay clear. My phone and I think Draco's has international calls already set up," Draco tipped his chin down in affirmation, "We will be available at any time. Naturally, we prefer emails, so those of you who are computer savvy should deal with that. Any questions?"

A rumble of no's came from those sitting around and Harry waved them all off, nodding at Draco to follow him to his private office. As Draco stood, Ron beat him to the door. "So I was thinking, when we get to her can I lead?" Draco couldn't help as the corner of his mouth turned up at the question. Ron clearly thought his rapturous personality would shine in front of Hermione.

"Uh, actually Ron, I think you'd be too emotionally linked to her. I think the girls need to connect with her before you do." Draco just couldn't stop the output of air from his nostrils, even if he tried harder. Not even Harry could ignore the ginger git's attempts to get to Hermione first. Draco knew this wasn't a race but Ron clearly felt he held some monopoly over the girl.

"Yeah, s'pose so." Ron said, giving Draco the side-eye.

Taking the lead, Draco walked around Ron and with his back to him, spoke directly to Harry. A powerplay to piss Ron off. He didn't care, he'd be at home within 15 minutes and probably asleep for the fun of it. "You wanted to see me?"

"Uhh, yeah, I wanted to give you this before tomorrow." He handed a pile of paperwork to Draco. "These are the details of what she's been doing the last few years. Seems to be some kind of missionary work." He gave a similar looking pile to Ron.

Draco leafed through the paperwork, it had details of the hospital she was found in, her diagnosis from a Muggle Consultant, plenty of test results that Draco didn't understand. There was also the profile of the Nun who phoned in.

"Can you read through that before tomorrow?" Ron and Draco nodded in response.

Draco turned on his heels and waved goodbye to both men. He was happy to go home already, plus he needed to pack – and sleep, and probably take a pepper up potion. Before he left the office, he had one last thing to say to Harry…

"Breakfast is on you tomorrow, Potty!"

* * *

3 years ago

Darkness.

There was just darkness as black as coal; it was all she could see. It spread out around her like a sea of sludge.

Her movements felt tiresome, her legs unmoving. She walked but arrived nowhere. She could not see what shoes she was wearing, if she was wearing any. Clothes? She did not question it. This was her everything and her nothing. Her limbo. A void of endless motion.

She felt no tension, no concern as though emotion was just a word. No pain - although she never seemed to rest - her momentum a consistent pace, her limbs did not tire, nor sleep find her. She just kept onwards. An emotionless peace.

She lifted her hand in front of her face, but she couldn't see it. Her hand rested upon her arm but there was no sensation. She did not question it, nor did it frighten her. This was her existence. This was her. A quiet existence that neither hurt nor healed.

Dimension, as though gravity pulled her back into line, became a reality as she gently slipped backwards and landed on the surface beneath her. A whooshing noise came through her like a freight train and she blinked when suddenly bright, white light filled the space around her as all five senses came back to her at once.

An electronic beeping, fluorescent lights, cold sheets on her damp skin, an antibacterial stench hit the back of her throat. Her tongue felt dry and heavy in her mouth and she opened her parched lips to gasp. It felt too much as her heart hammered in her chest and a great weight descended upon her. As though it never left her, she suddenly felt everything. A lump formed in her throat as panic welled up angry in her chest.

Frozen, she allowed her hands to roam the floor beneath her. It was soft, it rippled like the sea, but it was dry. She moved a hand across her stomach, it felt flat and she could feel ribs poking through her skin. She was covered in something thin and…

"Good morning, young lady. Careful now, take it easy or you might find you feel a bit unwell." Turning her head, she looked upon the voice and saw a young woman in a blue uniform. The woman didn't look familiar at all; her blonde hair was neatly tied back in a bun on the back of her head, naught but a slick of gloss on her lips and a uniform that she couldn't place immediately. Confusion whirled through her mind fast, nothing seemed to feel right.

"Do you know where you are?" She thought she'd heard those words before, they felt oddly familiar and the answer popped to the forefront of her mind quite fast,

"Hospital" she croaked; her unused voice hoarse.

"That's right, you've been with us for a little while and this is the first time you've woken up."

She didn't understand how she got here at all. Nothing hurt, except maybe an ache in her limbs from lack of movement.

"Why?"

"We aren't sure. You seem in perfect health other than being asleep for too long. I'll let the Doctor know you're awake."

She didn't know what she was supposed to remember but the feeling that something was meant to be said didn't go away.

"Do you know what year it is?"

Year? She looked at the woman, squinting her eyes a little and shook her head.

"Can you tell me your name?"

This should be an easy question. Her name sat on the tip of her tongue, but the thought couldn't form and the words wouldn't leave her mouth.

"There's no need to worry. It might come back to you soon." The woman picked up her chart and made a brief note. The nurse pulled a pen torch from her pocket and shined it in her eyes, before taking both hands in her own and asking her to squeeze. Seemingly satisfied, she returned to the clipboard and signed it off.

"Would you like to sit up? I imagine you're feeling a little stiff"

She nodded and the woman jostled around to a small white box, hanging from the end of her bed, and she jolted a little when the bed moved seemingly of it's own accord. She took a look around and there were wires and tubes poking from her skin and her eyes followed their paths back to a machine that beeped regularly.

"Don't worry about those. It's just some fluids and nutrition to keep you healthy while you're with us." Her mind muddled the words a little, but the message seemed simple enough; She was well but had slept for so long she had needed to go to hospital.

"What's wrong with me?" Her weak voice just making the end of the sentence.

"Well, we aren't exactly sure. You came in here unknown, alone and unconscious. Your vital signs were all good, tests came back clear and so we thought you'd just fallen asleep in public after a night out – except that was 3 months ago and you're only just waking up."

 _3 months!_ The beeping machine spiked and caught the nurse's attention, and she jumped when a warm hand was laid directly over her own.

"You are just fine. Please don't worry about how you came here, you're here and you're okay. Now you're awake we can focus on getting you better – Do you remember anything from before now?"

She closed her eyes to help herself focus a little, but her mind was as blank as ever - nothing came forward, just the endless darkness behind her lids.

"I don't remember anything,"

She noticed an undecipherable twitch upon the brow on the woman in front of her. Doubt? Perhaps?

"Well, not to worry." Reaching behind her, the nurse pulled a button from the wall. "Use this to call for one of us, and please leave those alone," She gestured to the cannula in her arm.

"While you're resting, try to piece together something that will help us get you home. Your name, maybe or where you live? Your parents?"

She nodded, laying herself back again and tried – and failed – to recall anything.

* * *

She sat in on the meeting because her curiosity couldn't withstand finding out second hand information about herself. This meeting was regarding her future and at least being present meant she had a say about what happened to her.

She was sat around a group of tables that formed a large square – everyone was equal. Her consultants, hospital admin staff, her nurses and even a Nun she'd made friends with were present. Many people she didn't know also sat around, overlooking notes or staring in her direction.

She wore clothes she'd been given by the convent, a plain t shirt and some blue jeans that didn't quite fit. She didn't feel uncomfortable, but she hardened her spine as listened as these people debated her best interests and what would be best for her treatment.

This situation felt unusual, even to her, but she listened as many ideas were shot down and many others left for future consideration.

Looking around the room, the many suits on offer, she found herself oddly drawn to the Nun. They'd begun speaking when she'd gone looking for reading material, Sister Mary had shown her to the hospital's "bring and buy" book stand, where she'd found 3 books that the kind Sister had gladly paid for.

" _Think of it as an investment in your future as I'm sure it will be bright and fruitful. After all, you are not a dim girl - you have a spark within you, I can see it. You glow, my dear."_ She recalled the conversation with a warm, fuzzy feeling in her chest. It seemed like this matriarchal figure in her life felt familiar. Maybe there'd been someone similar in her past life? She'd leant upon Sister Mary a lot in her time here.

She zoned in upon the voice of her Consultant, who had inadvertently led the meeting, and caught up on what he was saying "… It is quite clear from our discussions that there is little more that we can do to help this young lady, other than close monitoring and a careful reintroduction to society."

She had realized a long time ago that if there was nothing a surgeon could cut, a doctor could medicate or a consultant to analyze then there was nothing that could be done to help her.

"Miss, your official title on your documents has been Jean Doe 394. How do you feel about this?"

She suddenly realized she was being watched by every set of eyes in the room. A deep breath, her chin upright and her arms unfolded, she faced the man addressing her. "Jean is fine. I mean, until I remember my own name then I will just stay with Jean. It doesn't make sense to change it now, except I will not be a number for anyone."

Nodding along, the consultant made a note of this. "Jean, it's been decided that you will move in with Sister Mary who has assured us that there is room available at her home. She will help you apply for national assistance and we can continue 6 monthly check ups with myself to see if there is any improvement."

She was very glad the meeting was over. As everyone drifted out of the room – some nurses left rather rapidly which she assumed was to get back to work – the consultant said goodbye and Sister Mary smiled at her jovially.

"Come my dear Jean, let's get you home and comfortable. I tell you; I really would love a good cup of tea."

She smiled; Sister Mary was always so happy. It was contagious.


	4. Chapter 4

Draco was exhausted by the time he had stepped out of the taxi at the airport. He had slept for 10 whole hours, leaving him just a short window of time to prepare himself for the journey ahead. He'd showered, shaved, packed and shrunk his luggage to fit into his pocket.

  
He was wearing a white t shirt and chinos; it was comfortable and smart, and he had found it difficult to find clothes suitable for the job. His patent Oxfords were relegated to his wardrobe in favour of some suede brogues and he had remembered to throw in his old tennis shoes just in case.  
His wardrobe was the second bedroom in his flat. He had kitted out the whole room with fitted rails, drawers and sliding doors and it somehow still wasn't big enough for everything. He'd shrunk some of his seasonal wear to pack it away and found a pile of clothes he kept for trips with his Slytherin friends. Reminiscing about times spent at Pansy's cabin in the Lake District had wasted time he really didn't have spare. It was a sweeping estate, built from locally produced timber. Each bedroom was the size of his apartment, the bathtubs in each adjoining suite resembled the Prefect bath from Hogwarts. They'd spent many hours playing pool Quidditch, drinking in the hot tub, hiking around the woods and generally having all the fun that teenage boys and girls can have while they're in their prime. He'd settled really nicely in his London flat. He found the limited space was ideal for his needs. It had just two bedrooms and one bathroom, and the kitchen joined the living room, but it was fresh and new and most importantly for Draco – untainted. The small balcony that overlooked the rest of London was refreshing and Draco often spent his evenings out there reading or enjoying a drink with friends.

The weather outside was abysmal; the sky was an angry grey and the rain hammered down. His taxi had pulled up in the executive arrivals area, which thankfully was under a canopy. His perfectly coiffed hair – Styled so it looked as though he hadn't touched it – would not like the rain at all.

  
Scanning the almost empty airport lounge, he spotted Ron's wildly ginger hair from across the room and made his way over to them. Surprisingly the airport was rather quiet at this time of the morning, with just a few families lingering and the odd businessperson in suits and talking on phones. Draco was relieved, he was not a fan of crowds at the best of times.

  
"Yo, Draco! Over here!" Blaise waved at him over Harry's head. Draco kept his hands in his pocket as they all murmured "good morning" to each other, Ron stifling a yawn with his fist. Draco thought he'd timed that well so he didn't have to speak to him, which suited him just fine.

  
Harry showed Draco the flight tickets, "We've just got to check in first, then we can find the business lounge to wait for our flight."  
Draco smiled his lopsided grin, "They better serve an expensive breakfast, Potter, I'm famished and you're paying" He pointed between himself and Blaise, and then around the rest of the group, "For everyone!"  
Blaise clapped and shouted "Food!" before winking at his female colleagues and offering the crook of his arm to Hannah, which she accepted. "After you then Potter, Weasel".

They cleared security before heading towards the Business Lounge at the airport. Draco had insisted on upgrading their flights to business class and pocketed the cost himself. He was already doused in Muggle and he would not be made to sit next to them in a metal box for the worst part of a day. He was selfish, but he was okay with that. All of his childhood was spent in his father's shadow. His father led them to the Dark side. His father allowed Voldemort into their home. His father encouraged Draco to take the Dark Mark. Once his father had been imprisoned in Azkaban, his mother given house arrest in their French Chateau, and Draco came of age, he was handed control of the entirety of the Malfoy Estate. He had earned the right to be selfish over his actions.

  
He'd given a lot of the gold in Gringotts to help rebuild Hogwarts. He'd either sold or closed Malfoy Businesses and the Manor had been left to rot. Draco knew no one could ever live in those halls anymore. The very ground it was built on was cursed and rotten, not even grass would grow. His father's majestic Peacocks had taken off in flight at the end of the war and never had returned. The once glorious windows were cracked and blackened with soot and trailing ivy grew up the walls. The garden, untended and overgrown, was wild and no wildlife stepped a toe onto the cursed ground.  
Draco had warded the gates, placed a disillusionment charm around the whole building and walked away. He hadn't stepped foot near that house for nearly 2 years and he did not miss it.

  
The team settled around a coffee table in the Business Lounge. It was comfortable enough – plenty of sofas and armchairs - and a waitress came over to take their order. Small talk had erupted between the other six people, but Draco stayed quiet. He set his teacup in front of himself, stirring in a spoonful of sugar and waiting for his food to arrive. When it arrived, it was delicious. He'd ordered a full breakfast with sausages, bacon and mushrooms. It came on a massive plate and he didn't think he'd finish it all.

  
"After this is over, I'm thinking of finishing my exams," Blaise said, "It's only been three years and Professor M said we would be allowed to try again. It might be fun going back to Hogwarts as an adult."

"It must be exciting thinking your probation is nearly over?" Katie inferred the question,

"It really is. Me and Theo spoke about travelling for the summer, I want to see some of the great wonders of the World and I can't do that from the Ministry Atrium." He smiled and raised a cheeky eyebrow at Draco. "What about you Draco, what are you doing after this is all over?"

Draco considered the question. It was a rabbit hole he hadn't dared to dream of just yet. "I don't know. I might go to the States. See a man about a dog." He answered vaguely,

"Don't see you as a dog person, Malfoy" Ron piped up. Draco just rolled his eyes and ignored him.

"I'll miss you working with us. You've been a real asset to the Ministry, both of you." Harry pointed between Draco and Blaise, "Your input in all of this has made a huge difference. For a start, Shacklebolt never would have gone to the Muggle Minister if it wasn't for your heads up, Draco."

"The Muggle minister took far too long to act. Hardly made a difference at all," Ron never liked Draco to receive praise.

"You don't understand the Muggle side of it, Ron, so it's hardly fair to say they took so long." Katie interrupted.

Draco kept quiet. Ron didn't deserve his attention. Not that long ago, he would have been all too pleased to mouth at Ron, but over the years he'd learned restraint around the Weasel was a better option. You couldn't change his mind once he had it settled, and Draco had spent far too long trying to make him see sense, with no luck. It also annoyed his more when Draco didn't bite back.

"Our Ministry didn't catch Black straight away, and everyone knew what he looked like." Angelina added. Draco watched as Harry's teacup paused on the way to his lips.

"That's different because he was a wizard, an animagus and he was trying to hide." Ron interjected. Draco noticed Harry's eyes drop to the table. He knew that Black was important to Harry, they'd discussed this one evening over a beer, on Draco's balcony. Sirius Black had been Draco's cousin (Once removed) so they were discussing the likelihood of them actually being related.

"What does any of that matter now we have located her though?" Hannah spoke softly. "We're going to get her and very soon she'll be okay."

"Harry, you better go pick up the bill, we need to head to our gate." Draco changed the subject and Harry gave him a grateful look. He shoved his jacket on and picked his phone up off the table. He withdrew a wallet from his pocket and took out a muggle £20 note, which he left on the table with their dirty plates. Ron was tactless and Draco didn't want to stay seated for the rest of that conversation.

The plane journey itself was uneventful. Draco had plugged into the entertainment for the most of it. He'd particularly enjoyed learning about Muggle movies since being friends with Harry, and it certainly made the flight more enjoyable.  
Stepping out of the airport, Draco was hit full force by the dry heat. Everyone seemed to be struggling, but Draco was glad he had chosen comfortable clothes. He stripped his jacket off and flicked it casually over one shoulder, he tidied his t-shirt with the palm of his hand and straightened up.

"We have transport arranged; we are meant to be collected by a private hire vehicle." Harry confirmed, looking down at his paperwork. That's when Draco saw a man stood holding a sign that read "Mr. Potter" next to a van that had most definitely seen better days. He rolled his eyes, poxy Muggle travelling.  
He gave Harry his most glaring side eye and stepped towards the man. Refraining from shaking his outstretched hand, he climbed straight into the back of the vehicle. He did not want to be here and clearly; Harry was surprised too.  
It was a minibus-type vehicle, but the outside had never seen a cleaning cloth in its life. Draco tried in vain to wipe the window clear, so he could see out of it, but it made no difference. Blaise sat next to him and remarked on the state of the van. Draco fingered the wand he'd hidden in a pocket and shrunk his jacket to fit inside before making his seat more comfortable with a cushioning charm.

Arriving at their destination after three hours in cramped conditions, the team vacated the bus with aching limbs and numb behinds. Hannah, Katie and Angelina stood stretching out their sore muscles and Harry and Ron tipped the driver with a foreign currency.  
They stood before a brick built, single storey building. Its windows were small, and the door was painted blue. A sign on the wall outside detailed the date the building was opened, and Draco noted it had only been a couple of years. He felt a bit of trepidation as they opened the door and Harry and Ron walked in first. He held the door open for the ladies and Blaise patted his shoulder and smiled at him before stepping inside.  
The first thing Draco noticed was the building was airconditioned. He was so grateful for that brief bit of respite and took a moment to collect himself. The dry heat of outside was exhausting, and he didn't realise how uncomfortable it made him until he walked into the cool building.  
In front of them was an unmanned reception desk, and to the left a room was set out with chairs and a screen at the front. The team of seven wandered through the doors and they could see a hurried, older man making his way towards them.

"Greetings! Greetings! I'm sorry, I was just held up. I usually like to meet you on the step out front. Hello, my name is Geoffrey. Call me Geoff. This here is my young assistant Linzy and we are very pleased to make your acquaintance."

The man shook everyone's hand and Linzy, the blonde who had arrived three steps behind him did the same.

"We are very grateful for your appearance today, as Geoff has already stated. I'm your go to girl if you have any queries and we have a little presentation set up for you if you'd all like to take a seat." Her Australian accent was quite pleasing to Draco's ear.

The seven took their seats and Harry took a moment to introduce everyone by name. Draco sat at the back, near Blaise, and watched as the pair led them through the history of the project they were involved in.

"And this is why your assistance here is vital to the success of our camp. We often need hands, extra pairs of hands, to help with building work, to help with teaching and more importantly, to help with getting the word out there about who we are. We run entirely on charitable donations and this means we can make a real difference to people's lives.  
We don't take wages here at the camp, we are given an allowance to cover our basic necessities but otherwise we live and work here just like the other residents. Your support and contributions will make an ever-increasing difference to us and for that, I thank you"

Draco was feeling rather confused about what was happening. He hadn't been aware that they would be giving help to these people as part of their task. His brows knitted together and he made eye contact with Harry, who shrugged and turned back to Linzy.

"We are going to take a moment to show you your accommodation and then we will meet you in the dining hall in about an hour." She gestured towards a door on the opposite end of the room to where they'd entered. Through the window, Draco could see a green lawn with a large tree in the centre. Around the tree were small flowers planted in a muddy patch, and to one side there was a vegetable patch with large green beans growing around vines, as well as some other leafy plants in neat rows next to them.  
Another building stood at a right angle to the one they were in and beyond that a small park with some play equipment sat in a gated area. To the right-hand side was another building, forming a U-shaped courtyard and beyond that stood rows and rows of tents, mismatched buildings and tin shacks.

The group walked past the buildings and around a corner, where a group of tents stood separate to the rest. "These are staff and volunteer quarters, it's not the Ritz, but there is one tent for each of you if that makes you feel better."

Draco looked down the row and almost guffawed at the sight. He had never slept inside one and he absolutely hated the prospect.  
Reaching the tent farthest away, he opened the first flap and was greeted with the smallest 'porch' he'd ever seen. Ducking to fit inside, he opened the second door, and a third, before seeing the extent of his suffering – It was smaller than his bathroom. Just a small bunk that filled one half of the tent and the other half enough space for his suitcase to stand upright.

This was the final straw. He pulled his wand out of his pocket and placing a few charms inside it, he'd magically enlarged the space to fit a double bed, a real wardrobe and a table and chairs. He used more magic to open his suitcase and arrange his clothes to hang neatly.  
When he was done, he hung his jacket up on a magically placed hook and stepped back outside the tent. He zipped up the doors and made sure to place wards on it so no one could go inside. He stowed away his wand and wandered toward Harry who was stood talking to Linzy.

"I don't quite know how well we will do here. When we were sent over this wasn't in our brief. I hope you understand." Understatement, Draco thought.

"I don't know what you're really talking about, but you're here now and that's what matters. Geoff, myself and our colleague will meet you in the dining hall shortly. Get comfortable and unpacked and I will see you soon"  
Watching the blonde walk away, Draco took a few steps closer to Harry. Exhaling audibly, the dark-haired man shook his head and pinched his temples.

"So, how big a fuck up is this, and how much trouble are you in exactly?" Draco teased.

"Shut up, Draco. This is the best lead we had."

"There is no sign of her,"

"No shit! And now I have just dragged 6 of you along with me on the whims of an eighty-year-old woman!"

Draco put a hand on Harry's shoulder, "Listen, we can get back by magical means, no one will even know we were here. A few charms and we can be back home tonight, no big deal"

Harry closed his eyes. "I'm hungry, so let's eat first and then we can obliviate them and go home, deal?"

"Deal." Draco confirmed.

"We can go and talk to Linzy, to see if we can get some information out of her?" Katie questioned, gesturing at Hannah and Angelina.

"I need to find the men's room," Blaise placed a hand on the front of his trousers, "busting for a pee!" He laughed.

The team separated, leaving Harry and Draco at the tents. Ron had gone with Blaise and the three girls had gone to find Linzy. The two men wandered around looking at the scenery, their feet finding them in the play area and Harry sat on one of the swing seats. Draco watched some families going about their business in the background. The atmosphere was peaceful, and Draco had never felt so open. He'd always been protected by some force or another and yet here, amongst the Muggles and in this fresh air, he felt uninhibited.

"I'm never going to find her. There will never be any closure." Harry muttered, and Draco felt a pit in his stomach. This was more than just finding a missing person to Harry; this was his best friend and Draco suddenly felt very guilty. He wasn't so great at comforting people, so he kept his distance and allowed Harry to continue talking to himself.  
There was only so much self-depreciation Draco could partake in. He had been at fault. Hermione had disappeared while she was held at his home. Draco had been there while she was held in the basement. Draco had given her meals and made sure she had a chance to see sunlight. Draco had…

"Are you guys hungry?" Angelina called, and Draco looked up to see her and the rest of them gesturing for him and Harry to meet them by the tree.

"There are no actual toilets, guys. It's a hole in the ground! Can you believe it? There was toilet paper though, which really shocked me." Blaise rambled on.

"And I found another group of people who arrived just a moment ago. I charmed them to drive off, because I think they were meant to be here instead of us. It would raise too many questions if we came at the same time." Ron bumbled. Draco rolled his eyes, Ron always acted before getting approval and this wasn't unusual behavior – even if it was the right course of action to take. Draco would have done the same if he'd found them.

Harry just nodded, clearly he had a lot going on in his mind and that was a detail to unpack later.

The group wandered over to where the smell of cooking wafted across the courtyard. The dining hall was basic, like the reception area, but it wasn't airconditioned and the number of people inside made the room feel stifling. Draco noticed all the doors and windows had been flung wide open and the long school-like dining tables were bustling.

He led them over to where the buffet like meal was being served and they collected trays and cutlery before joining the queue.

Draco was starving, and the food smelled amazing but just as he turned his head to greet his server, he suddenly came eye to eye with the exact person they were here to see.

His whole body froze, and Harry bumped into him before looking at his face and followed his astonished gaze to see what the problem was.

Draco couldn't look away from her giant brown eyes. His breathing accelerated and it felt like he'd forgotten how to blink.

"Hello, nice to meet you." She spoke.

Her voice was the same.

The hairs on the back his neck rose, and the chill travelled down his spine.

"What's the hold up?" Ron asked, from the back of the queue, and Draco suddenly came out of his daze. He turned to look at Harry and Harry was still spellbound by Hermione's appearance. She was stood with a white apron on and her hair was braided back, her blue gloved hand was holding a ladle of stew she was trying to serve to Draco. Draco offered his bowl to her and he thanked her before stepping backwards and motioning to the others to look. The girls all smiled, and Ron's face flushed beetroot red. Blaise stepped around Harry to receive the next portion of food, and Draco poked him in the back. Coming back to his sense, Draco watched Harry swallow and he offered his bowl up without speaking.

Hermione was here, and they were so unprepared. She looked completely different – her skin had a glowing tan, her hair was braided, and he looked, well, fit. She was toned and slim, and Draco suddenly felt particularly uncomfortable. The last time he had looked into her eyes, they were tear-filled and laying on a rug in his Manor. The same rug he had blown up with a well-practiced Bombarda spell in anger, and her tears had haunted many a dream of his since.

They all stood speechless and shuffled slowly past her, not knowing what to say, how to say it or even, if they should say anything.

"You're all star struck, was it something I said?" She laughed, her twinkling eyes flicking to Draco's own.

"Uh, no, just thankyou for our food," Draco managed to get out.

"My pleasure, I'm Jean, pleased to meet you,"

"Draco, pleased to meet you too," He half whispered.

"You better go get seated, there is a long queue behind you all now. I'll come and introduce myself properly later, I'm glad you made it safely"

"I look forward to it," Blaise interjected politely. "See you later!"

And as Draco sat to eat his meal, he was suddenly not hungry anymore.


End file.
